


Mishap! at the Skelebros'

by 0neType



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Established Edgeberry, Gen, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6199861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0neType/pseuds/0neType
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know it was him, kid. Don’t bother trying to hide it.”</p><p>“I-I’m not trying to—!”</p><p>“Then tell me <em>where he is</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mishap! at the Skelebros'

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://0netype.tumblr.com/post/140678267847/mishap-at-the-skelebros).

“Where is he?” His voice is calm. Not a hint of a stutter.

Sans looks up at him, blue eyes wide. He’s trembling a little, “S-Sans, it’s not—”

“ _Where_?” Sans interrupts his cross-universe twin, never taking his eyes off the injury on the smaller one’s face. There’s a crack just under his socket. It’ll heal, won’t even scar, but it doesn’t change the fact that it shouldn’t be there to begin with, “I know it was him, kid. Don’t bother trying to hide it.”

“I-I’m not trying to—!”

“Then tell me  _where he is_.”

The skeleton in front of him seems to shrink at his tone and Sans feels a pang of regret. The last thing he wants to do is make him feel even worse. But he doesn’t apologise; _can’t_ when the rage in him is growing stronger with every passing second and it’s all he can do to not scream where he stands.

He didn’t ask to come home to this. But now that he’s seen it, he can’t just let it go either. Not when it’s happened to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Someone who would never even  _think_  to fight back.

Sans still doesn’t respond, but his eyes flick up towards the top of the stairs and that’s all he needs.

He blips from in front of the TV to his brother’s door.

“Wait! Sans, listen to me!” His counterpart shouts, but Sans is already wrenching the door open and steering himself inside.

His brother is reclining in his bed reading a  _book_  of all things. He’s not even in his usual outfit, instead dressed in comfortable casual wear. He hardly looks up when Sans bursts in, simply giving a grunt of acknowledgement and turning his attention back to what he’s reading. All of this only serves to fuel Sans’ anger further.

How  _could_  he?

How fucking  _dare_  he?

With a flick of his wrist, Sans sends a barrage of bones hurtling towards his brother. They whistle through the air before embedding in the wall just to the right of his brother’s skull. There’s a curse and a shout as Papyrus leaps up from where he’s sat. His brother stares at the wall for a second before flicking his gaze to meet his at last.

The fucker has the nerve to look  _surprised_.

“Sans, what—”

Sans growls, cuts him off, “No more warning shots.”

This time when he sends another volley of bones, he sends them with the intent to maim and injure. Papyrus looks almost startled and, if this were any other day, Sans might take a moment to enjoy the novelty of that look on his face. Right now though, all he can think of is the crack under the kid’s eye and the fact that his brother was the one to put it there.

He feels sick.

Papyrus dodges, lightning quick, ducking to the floor. Sans grits his teeth, and sends several more before his brother gets upright. One hits him straight in the chest and the sound of a crack rings in the air as his brother’s rib fractures from the force. Papyrus grips at his side, looks at Sans with eyes burning with fury.

Sans has his full attention now.

 _Good_.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Papyrus hisses.

He laughs dryly, “You’re not gonna be able to do much once you’re dust, Boss.”

“Is that it then? Have you finally lost it?” An ugly snarl curls over his face, “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. You always _have_ been a little unhinged.”

He’s only half listening to Papyrus’s angry spitting. The image of the other Sans’ face keeps flashing in his head. The sick feeling only spreads further when he thinks of what could have happened if he came home any later.

Some part of Sans tells him this is just as much his fault as Papyrus’s.

He should have known better—should have  _known_  his brother would _never_  change. He should have  _been there_ to stop it. But he wasn’t. He’d trusted his brother to do the right thing and someone important to him had gotten hurt because of it.

It wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.

Sans shrugs at him, “You gonna keep talking or are you gonna fucking fight me?”

Papyrus responds with his own series of bone attacks. Sans sidesteps them easily and they smash into the wall behind him, breaking through plaster and dry wall. Attack after attack but not one hits and, for a second, Sans thinks his brother looks almost pleased. As if nothing has changed. As if this is just another spat between them. As if this isn’t happening because Papyrus has hurt the _kindest_ , most _generous_ , soul Sans has ever met in his life.

He wants to rip his brother apart.

“Papyrus!” There’s a shout from the doorway and Sans jolts in surprise at the sight of his blue twin standing there, stance firm and unafraid.

His brother waves his hand and the slams the door shut, twists the lock with his magic, “Stay out of this, you idiot! It’s dangerous!”

There’s resolute pounding against the door, “Don’t hurt him, Papyrus!”

Sans frowns at that; doesn’t quite understand. It doesn’t matter anyways, because his brother ignores his shout. Instead, Papyrus is approaching him with violent hunger in his eyes. Sans is intimately familiar with that look. He has more scars than he can count that were the result of it.

And now his brother was going to brand someone else with those same wounds.

His left eye burns with magic, and he clenches his fist ensnaring his brother’s soul. Papyrus makes a wheezing sort of sound as Sans squeezes down on it, grasping at his chest.

“Why?” Sans demands, watching as Papyrus struggles against the magic that’s keeping him immobile, “Wasn’t it enough when it was just me?”

“What in the _hell_ are you talking about?”

Sans flicks his wrist, smashes his brother against a wall. He doesn’t exactly revel in the pained gasp Papyrus makes, but he doesn’t regret doing it either, “Every time you hit me, every scar you gave me, I didn’t care. I didn’t care because I already _knew_ I fucking deserved it.”

There’s a flicker in Papyrus’s expression. Sans thinks maybe it means that he finally, _finally_ understands what this is about. He doesn’t say a word though. Just watches silently.

“I was worthless. Lower than trash. So it was okay for you to hurt me. It was fine. _Expected_ even. You were only doing what anyone else would’ve done. In fact, it could even be called merciful! Most probably would have killed me.” He raises his hand and flings his brother up against the ceiling. Papyrus gasps again as he collides with it, but otherwise does not speak. He doesn’t even try to struggle, “But Sans is different. He’s not like me.”

With a final burst of his magic, he smashes Papyrus down to the ground. His brother yells as he falls on his cracked rib. Sans walks up to him, shoes at eye level to his face, “He deserves better. He deserves the _best_ things this _shitty_ place has to offer.”

Papyrus is struggling now and Sans is so, _so_ angry. Because he _still_ won’t say a word. Won’t offer any explanation or excuses or anything at all and Sans wants to know _why_. Why would he do this to someone who has been nothing but a positive influence in his life and the lives of everyone around him? Has he been wrong about his brother this whole time? Is there really nothing redeemable in him after all?

His soul aches at the thought.

“Say something!” he shouts, gripping tighter with his fists and feeling his brother’s soul strain in response.

He just barely manages to lift his head to look Sans in the eye, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

Sans can feel the heat of his anger growing ever stronger, “You seriously don’t have _anything_ to say for yourself?”

Papyrus just watches him, calm, “If you think I deserve it, just go ahead already.”

“Is that a fucking challenge?” Sans snorts, “You think I won’t?”

“I don’t presume to know anything that goes through your mind, brother.”

He doesn’t know if it was intended to be mocking, but the fury inside him doesn’t care. He grips even tighter onto his brother with his magic and, with a rush of power, brings out his blasters. They _whirr_ and _hum_ with energy, one over each of his shoulders. The blasters even manage to bring some emotion back to the blank veneer of Papyrus’s face. Even then, however, it’s not the kind Sans wants to see.

There’s no fear or anguish. No regret either. Just a weary sort of resignation.

Sans charges his blasters, directs them towards his brother. Papyrus closes his eyes.

He wishes he could relish this moment. Relish that he has his brother bound and powerless at his feet. But, when it comes down to it, all he feels is the sting of bitter betrayal.

He stares at Papyrus’s face. Stares at his brother; completely at his mercy.

He feels like his whole body pangs with sorrow _._

He’d never been a very hopeful person in general but he’d _always_ thought the best of Papyrus. In a way, Papyrus _was_ his hope. His hope that, one day, things could change; that _they_ could change. Because if his brother was the cruelest and yet, could _still_ find it in his soul to spare his worthless life then, surely, there was a chance for something better in the future?

So he watches his brother, blasters pointed down at him, and he wavers.

He hesitates.

Papyrus jumps at the opportunity.

The second Sans’ magic flickers, Papyrus rips out of his hold and shoots out a hand. Sans barely has time to yell. Within moments, their positions have been reversed and Papyrus has him pinned down and helpless. He struggles but he knows it’s useless. He’s wasted his only chance.

Papyrus walks up to him and Sans feels that familiar creeping of dread and fear descend upon him. He manages a weak chuckle, “Guess I lost, huh?”

His brother doesn’t do anything though, simply looks him over. Then he looks away again, sighs, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Sans doesn’t understand.

His expression must give as much away, because Papyrus continues, “I did not harm Sans.”

He narrows his gaze at his brother, “Don’t fucking lie to me. It practically _reeked_ of your magic. Besides, even without the stench, I’d know a mark like that anywhere. I have enough of my own to compare to.”

He’s a little shocked to see his brother flinch at that, as if the words themselves have hurt him. It’s yet another look he’s never seen on him before, “Yes… well, I suppose saying I did not harm him is not… the _entire_ truth.”

“Would you just say what you want to already?”

Papyrus frowns at that, but relents, “It was an accident.”

“The fuck?”

“An accident,” he repeats, “We were having a… _contest_ of sorts in the kitchen. Trying to figure out which one of us was the better cook. Things got… a little unwieldly.”

If he’s being completely honest, Sans isn’t quite sure how to react to this bit of news.

It’s… well, it’s not the _most_ ridiculous lie he’s ever heard. If it even _is_ a lie. Honestly, he’s seen Papyrus attempt cooking enough times to know that the kitchen is practically a war zone while he’s in there. Which suggests that Papyrus is telling the truth. 

But if Papyrus is telling the truth... that means...

That means that the one in the _wrong_  here is…

He can feel the start of an embarrassed flush come over him, “An… an a-accident…?”

His brother nods and Sans believes him. Utterly and completely. After all, there’s no point in lying _now_ when Papyrus could just kill him off instead.

“O-oh…” he tries to laugh but it just comes out strained, “Guess that’s probably what Sans was trying to tell me earlier, huh?”

Papyrus takes a few steps closer and Sans instinctively recoils. His brother stills, seems to consider something briefly, before sticking out a hand to help him up. Sans just stares at it, bewildered. His brother rolls his eyes, grumbles a little, before dropping his hand and pulling Sans up by his jacket instead. As soon as he’s is standing, Papyrus lets him go, backs away to give him space.

Sans really isn’t sure how to take _any_ of this.

“For the record,” Papyrus uncomfortably rubs at the back of his skull, “You, ah... you didn’t deserve it either...”

Sans blinks, “What?”

“The… the things I did to you,” He starts off hesitant, but his voice grows stronger as he continues, “You didn’t deserve it. Any of it.”

Is that? An apology? What the hell is happening here? He’s fucking _reeling_. He went into all this expecting a totally different outcome, but now they’re having some fucked up sort of heart-to-heart?? 

He laughs, short and incredulous. Well, as long as they’re doing this, he might as well be honest, “Not sure if I believe that, Boss. I probably deserved worse.”

It’s meant to be reassuring but Papyrus just grimaces. He looks like he wants to say something about it but he holds it in. Sans doesn’t push him. They’re both silent, staring anywhere but at each other.

It’s… awkward.

Sans gestures vaguely in his brother’s direction, “But, uh... thanks. I guess. And, uh… sorry about the… the misunderstanding… a-and your rib… ”

Papyrus manages a nod, rubs absently at his chest, “Yes, of course. You… you are forgiven.”

“Nice,” He nods too, tries to find something meaningful to say, “Cool.”

They both fall into silence once again.

This is different for them. Difficult and new. They stand stiffly next to each other, unsure of what the next step should be. Sans is almost starting to wish that Papyrus had saved him the awkwardness by dusting him instead when there’s a shout from outside the room.

“Papyrus!” comes the exasperated yell of his counterpart, “Calm down!”

His brother looks towards the door, frowning, “I am calm?”

“I… I don’t think he means _you_ , bro.”

In the silence, they can hear the sounds of very heated arguing. Two voices; one being that of the Sans outside the room, hushed and reprimanding. The second is much louder and is  _unmistakably_ that of his older brother. It doesn’t take much to guess what they must be arguing about.

Sans starts to snicker.

“Well, isn’t _this_ just fucking great,” Papyrus groans, “Do you think at least _he’ll_ let me get a word in before he tries to kill me?”

And, just like that, things fall back into balance.

Sans grins wide, “Heh, I doubt it. Good luck though, Boss.”

“What do you mean, ‘good luck’? You’re coming with me!”

He shakes his head, enjoys the feeling of peace and thankfulness in knowing that his brother hasn’t done something unforgivable, “Nah, you’ve got this.”

Papyrus looks incredibly frustrated, “Sans, so help me, if you do not—”

But before his brother can even finish his sentence, he gives a wink and blips out of sight. He lands outside their house just in time to hear his brother’s angry scream rattle the windows. He laughs, content to watch _this_ fight play out from the sidelines.

**Author's Note:**

> finished editing this so I figured I'd post it here as well B')


End file.
